


Discord for the Church

by InterNutter



Category: Church (Short Film 2019)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Discord Minifics, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 23:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19756291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: Every now and again I treat the Church Discord fangroup to some lovely Angst Juice. This is a collection of that.Tags subject to change according to content. Be wary, folks.





	Discord for the Church

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Toastyhat/Emptyfeet owns the animatic. Fallout Boy owns the music. I just write things like this.

Hratsek... endured. Long after he forgot his language. Long after he forgot his mother's face. Long after he forgot his homeland. He remembered his first day with these furless peoples. They had shown him an effigy of one of their own. A stone woman with a kind face and closed eyes.

_Blind to the injustice around her._

They had also steered him past the body of another Intseh. Cruelly dead, the boy had taken so many injuries before his soul fled for the afterlands. Whoever he had been, he hadn't yet reached his full height, and he barely had his adult horns.

_Hratsek had an older sister who might be mere days older than that boy..._

It left an impression.

Of all the Intseh faces he had once known, he never forgot that dead boy. Tossed aside like garbage. It didn't take long for Hratsek to work it out. These people wanted him to fight, so he got good at it. At first, because he didn't want to be left like garbage with none to mourn him, and thereafter because...

No other child should ever have to suffer what he suffered.

Week after week blurred into months, the months into years. Killing became routine. Young, old, females and children. It didn't matter. They were furless. They hurt him and once a week, he got to hurt them.

He lost count of the numbers he'd slaughtered.

They always had more of them. Marked with a black diamond to match the red one under his wrist wraps. He fought them, they fought him. Blood filled his mouth and cheering filled his ears and _they were never satisfied._ There were _always_ more furless to kill.

Despite their healing power, despite his determination to last, the injuries mounted up. Time wore him down. One knee became stiff. An elbow didn't bend right. His neck crackled and cold mornings made moving at all harder.

Grey sprouted in the fur of his hands and feet. His tail tuft turned ashen.

_If they didn't kill him... time would._

One day... one day, one of them would win. One day, another child would be stolen and see his dead body, left like garbage.

What message would that little one take from his corpse?

What did it matter?

As long as that one day wasn't _today,_ Hratsek could endure.


End file.
